


Something Borrowed

by Ifrit



Series: Who's Your Plus One? [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Abandonment, Cheating, Exhibitionism, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Incest, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifrit/pseuds/Ifrit
Summary: Kyrie, more than anything, would love for Nero to propose after years of dating.Too bad her boyfriend is fucking his estranged uncle.





	Something Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> Thanking Ray and Mimoimo once again for their beautiful screeching while I wrote this UwU!! This was supposed to be part of a DN week but because of work duties I no longer think I have the time to finish out the rest of the week. So I'm just gonna go ahead and post this.
> 
> Disclaimer: CHEATING IS BAD, KIDS. DONT DO IT.

Four years.

For four whole years Nero and Kyrie had been dating, and it felt as if he’d been submerged in a pot of slowly boiling water.  

_“You must be engaged by now, right?”_

_“When are you two tying the knot?”_

_“When’s the wedding?”_

All these questions had Nero feeling like he was being suffocated.  He knew these were also questions Kyrie desperately wanted to ask Nero herself, but every time Nero sensed them coming, he changed the subject so fast Kyrie looked like he’d just given her whiplash.

Why did it _matter?_  He and Kyrie were _happy_. They still went on dates, they lived together comfortably, and Nero made sure to treat her like she was the most precious thing in the world.  Fundamentally, he understood. Even though they were both still in college, it wasn’t uncommon back in small-town Fortuna where the both of them grew up to get married as soon as couples graduated high school.  Which is exactly what he knew Kyrie was expecting, but yet.

His hesitation had started to drive a wedge between them.  Kyrie didn’t say it, but Nero knew she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Nero to get down on one knee and pull out a ring.  It was just unfortunate that Nero didn’t have that ring - he didn’t even have plans to buy one.

Truth be told, Nero should just do it.  Pop the question so he could finally, _finally_ get his dick wet.  Kyrie was raised religious, and had told Nero from the beginning that she was saving herself until marriage.  Which made the fact that Nero was waiting so long to propose that much more confusing.

Nero didn’t know what the problem was-

-until he met _him_ .   _Dante._

Maybe getting piss-drunk during Christmas Eve at his parents’ house wasn’t Nero’s best idea, especially with Kyrie there with him.  She always hated it when he got drunk, saying something about him being too unruly and inconsiderate when he did.

Fuck all that.  He had a right to drink, because he’d just met his uncle for the first time.

After 21 entire years of avoiding Nero after his biological father (and Dante’s brother) died, _even though he was supposed to be his legal guardian,_ Dante - no, _uncle_ Dante - finally decided to make an appearance, though even after all this time it was forced.  Mom had told him how she had to lie to Dante and tell him Nero wouldn’t be there for him to even agree to coming to the house.

It was downright offensive.  His only blood relative that could visit him at literally _any_ time refused to meet with him even once because, Nero quoted, “he was afraid of the responsibility”.  As if Dante hadn’t abandoned him just like his father had. It was only more insulting because he knew how often his moms and Dante visited each other - he was _right there_.  It would have been awkward, sure, but Nero was tired of feeling like he was alone.

Which made their first meeting a little bit more… _avoidant_ than it probably should have been.  Lady and Trish introduced Dante as his uncle, and, not wanting to meet his eyes, Nero kept his gaze resolutely on Dante’s chest.

When he saw just how _cut_ he was, Nero let his gaze drop lower, and lower, and lower…

And jerked it right back up when he realized Dante was waiting for him to shake his hand.

He shook it awkwardly, flashing a wooden smile before going back to Kyrie and holding her in front of him like a shield.  He wasn’t sure what that had been - Nero wasn’t _gay_ .  He had Kyrie.  He’d had Kyrie for years, and not _once_ during those years did he ever have a single gay thought.

 _But maybe_ , a voice creeping up from the back of his mind supplied, _maybe you just needed to fuck the right guy._

So that’s where he was at this point in his life.  Having a gay crisis - _over his uncle,_ no less.

Not that Dante really qualified as his uncle.  He was practically a stranger.

Throughout the duration of the gathering, Nero made sure to keep away from Dante.  Well… at least _sober_ Nero did.  Drunk Nero had entirely different intentions.

It wasn’t immediate - Nero, who was getting progressively drunker, was at the same time slowly making his way closer to Dante, who was similarly perched as far away from Nero as he possibly could be.  Though he wasn’t actually drunk yet, Nero stumbled his way over to where Dante was sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar and “accidentally” tripped, falling head-first into Dante’s lap.

When Nero scrabbled for purchase, the heel of his hand pressed right into Dante’s crotch - an accident, he _swears_ .  A happy accident, where he could feel the entire length of Dante’s flaccid dick in his pants - and it felt fucking _huge._

Great.  Not only was he gay now - he was a size queen, to boot.

It was at that point that Nero reluctantly accepted the truth - gay, straight, bi, _whatever_ he was - he had the hots for his uncle, and he had it _bad._

The lust that shocked him to his core was only amplified when he realized how wrong it was to have feelings for a blood relative.  He didn’t know it, but he was practically _leering_ at Dante, tongue swiping the edge of his bottom lip as he got back on his feet.

Nero made sure not to get any more drunk than he already was, biding his time until everyone, including Kyrie, was asleep.  At the stroke of midnight, he tiptoed his way down to Dante’s room and prayed to god the door was unlocked.

It was.  He pushed his way inside, closed the door, and turned the lock.

Time to see for himself what his uncle was packing.

* * *

 Three months.

For three entire months, Dante had been sleeping with his nephew.

Hey, it’s not like he _planned_ to do it.  It’d been Nero who’d made the first move.  It’d been Nero who, on Christmas Eve, had been _far_ too drunk on eggnog and tripped into Dante’s lap.

Dante didn’t know what the kid found, but he’d gotten the most _sexually charged_ look he’d ever seen in his life when Nero pushed off of him.

He tried not to think too much about it.  Alcohol did tend to drive people a little bit crazy - so then why did Nero keep giving him that _look_ the next morning, when they were all sober?

Maybe it was a trick of the light.  Maybe Nero had something stuck in his eye, or was just a little tired from the hangover.

Those excuses ran dry when Nero quietly snuck into Dante’s room that night after all the festivities had wound down and the rest of the girls were asleep.  Closing (and locking?) the door behind him as silently as he could, Nero began approaching a confused Dante, who had been getting ready for bed and was in nothing but his underwear and a loose tank top.

To say that Dante had been surprised when Nero kissed him was an understatement.

Pushing him away, Dante had frantically hissed, “What are you _doing?_ I’m your-”

“Yeah.  I know,” Nero smirked, hooking a finger into the waistband of Dante’s briefs as he reeled his uncle in for another kiss.  Just before their lips touched, he stopped, sliding that finger around to Dante’s front and stretching the cloth just far enough so he could glance down and see for himself what he’d felt on Christmas Eve.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Nero had _purred_ at the sight, and with that, pushed forwards that last inch to bring their mouths together again, setting the night into motion.

Nero had been _insatiable,_ pushing Dante into bed to ride, fuck, and blow him (in that order).

It’s not as if Dante had been passive during the whole thing, either.  Obviously, he could have stopped Nero at any time, but he _let_ Nero ride him.  He’d enthusiastically opened his legs for Nero’s first time (yes, Nero was somehow a virgin), and he’d grabbed Nero’s head by the strands of his hair and fucked Nero’s mouth so sloppily that his nephew was _choking_ on it, spit and semen flying everywhere as he gasped for air.

In fact, Dante had shown Nero how to fuck him _just_ right, how to angle his head and cover his teeth to get him off the fastest.  Nero had seemed a bit unsure of it at first, being so inexperienced - but Dante just held his hand, leaned in for a kiss, and told the kid to trust him to show him how it’s done.

It was only when they were both laying on their backs as they basked in the afterglow that Dante really felt the guilt start to settle in.

Sure, he hadn’t raised the kid from birth or anything, but they were undoubtedly related by blood.  His brother had disappeared after having Nero, and, knowing Dante wasn’t fit to raise a child, Lady and Trish had taken up the mantle as Nero’s parents.  

Dante’s job kept him busy overseas, so he never actually had the chance to meet Nero until he’d turned 21 despite visiting Trish and Lady fairly often.  Truthfully, he’d always been relieved when they told him Nero was out of the house - he’d never really liked kids, and the responsibility of being so closely related to one was too much for him to deal with.

Trish and Lady weren’t stupid.  They knew he was avoiding Nero, so they forced him to visit that fateful Christmas Eve without telling him Nero would be there.

With his _girlfriend_ , no less.

Another wave of guilt flooded through him when he recalled how their first meeting had went.  He took no pride in admitting that he’d been attracted to Nero the first moment he’d seen him, the shame of being related to him not strong enough to stop him from admiring his broad shoulders, his pert, round ass, and his lips, perfect for sucking…

Yeah, he had to stop himself right there.  Knowing how dangerous it would be to entertain these thoughts in the presence of Lady and Trish, not to mention Nero’s goddamned _girlfriend -_ he tamped down the inappropriate desires bubbling just underneath the surface of his skin and quietly sipped whatever alcohol the girls had on hand.

Despite Dante’s reaction, Nero had seemed perfectly normal and _not_ interested in fucking his goddamn _uncle_ when Trish and Lady had introduced them both.  Sure, maybe his gaze may have strayed lower before snapping back up to meet Dante’s eyes as they shook hands awkwardly, but Dante had no reason to think anything of it - at the time.

His heart sank, eyes closed tight to fight the overwhelming rush of mortification as the full weight of what they’d just done began to crush him.

Somehow, Nero didn’t have the same problem.  He’d rolled over to throw an arm over Dante’s chest, running his hand up and down his chest to rub sensually at Dante’s sensitive skin before asking, “We’re doing this again, right?”, eyes bright and brimming with expectation.

Dante wanted to say no.  He wanted to tell Nero that this was wrong, to remind him that he had a girlfriend, didn’t he?

He did none of those things.  “Just give me the word, kid.”

They’d almost gone for a fourth round when Nero climbed onto him, powerful thighs straddling his sides and bringing Dante’s hands to rest on his hips with an almost magnetic pull, Dante unable to resist.  However, the sound of a door opening down the hall made them both freeze, and Nero slowly slid off the bed and bent down to pick up his clothes.

It was as if a spell was broken.  Nero gave Dante one last lingering look before leaving his bedroom, peeking out to look both ways to make sure the hall was clear before slipping out and returning to his own room.  Where his girlfriend was waiting for him.

Shit, what was Dante doing?  Whatever. This was… it was a mistake, one he would be sure not to make again.

Which is why he and Nero fucked twelve times since they met at Christmas Eve.

The second time they fucked, Dante had legitimately not been expecting it.  It’d been a few weeks after _the mistake_ , and Dante was getting ready to leave to go back to where he was stationed when he got the text.  It’d been from an unsaved number, but Dante immediately knew who it was from when it read: “Mom says you’re leaving.  Let’s get drinks.”

He has to wonder what Nero told Kyrie before leaving to “get drinks” with Dante - did he tell her the truth, that he was just seeing his dear old uncle off before he flew halfway across the world, or did he lie?  What possible reason would he have to lie? No one in their right mind would think that Dante and Nero were…

Fucking each other bareback in the bathroom after not having enough drinks to explain away the lapse in judgement.  Trying to give each other handjobs in the elevator up to Dante’s hotel room. Being so loud that hotel management knocked on the door with a warning.

That night, Nero saw Dante off with a satiated smile and a coy little wave.  Without cell service in the air, Dante didn’t see Nero’s follow-up dick pic until he landed, and no amount of jet lag could have stopped him from jerking off to it.

From then on, it was practically routine.  Dante would spend about two weeks away, and the moment his plane landed on his way back to the states, he’d get a text from the same number that he’d by now saved under the name “Blue”.  He wasn’t nearly stupid enough to slap Nero’s name on the number he’d been getting regular sexts from. “Blue” would text him with a place and a time, and Dante would go meet him there, throw back a few drinks, and have the best sex of his life… _again_.

It was a little worrying that this whole _arrangement_ was the closest thing he’d ever had to a long-term relationship.  Even worse, it was getting harder and harder to face Trish and Lady without a metric fuckton of guilt hitting him like a freight train, and so the frequency of his visits with the married couple dwindled.  On the other hand, the number of visits between him and Nero only multiplied, and Dante was starting to wonder whether Kyrie was beginning to get suspicious.

Dante reached his tipping point when he visited during Nero’s graduation.  The whole affair had been emotional, and even Dante was invited to dinner afterwards to celebrate.

Seeing Kyrie and Nero walking into the house hand-in-hand, almost _skipping_ with happiness and excitement, almost made Dante want to turn right back around and get the hell out of there.  He was ruining everything, like he usually did.

Nero was so young, almost half his age.  Dante hated himself for sullying something he had no right to get in the middle of, despite whether or not Nero initiated it.

Lady noticed something was off when Dante barely said a word through dinner.  She and Trish had cornered him when he got up to put his dishes in the sink, asking whether he was okay or not, if his mood had anything to do with him not visiting them in months - which, yeah, kind of did, but he wasn’t going to admit to fucking their son right then in the middle of their kitchen.

Dante left to go back to the dinner table on his own, trying not to flip Lady and Trish off for their misplaced (but warranted) concern.  As fate would have it, he was seated right next to Nero by some cruel act of god. He’d wanted to switch seats, but how would he do it without raising suspicion?

So, torturously, he endures the dinner, keeping himself from accidentally touching Nero at any point by sitting at the far edge of his seat.  Trish might have given him a few dirty looks for encroaching on her space, but he was okay with it if it meant the temptation to touch Nero would be suppressed.

He realized his efforts were wasted when he felt Nero’s foot slowly curl around his ankle in the middle of dessert. He almost drops his fork when he realizes what’s happening, jaw clenching as he glances at Nero.

The kid is giving him this heavy-lidded side-eye, tongue peeking out to swipe at his bottom lip as he slowly, sensually drags his foot against Dante’s calf.  The sheer audacity of it is staggering, Kyrie leaning against Nero on his other side with her arm wrapped around his. Despite this, Dante isn’t above popping a stiffy right underneath the tablecloth.

No one notices but Nero, but oddly enough, he doesn’t do anything about it.

Great.  Now Dante is guilt-ridden and _horny_.  

He wants to excuse himself from the table so he can try and calm himself down, but Nero beats him to the punch, declaring his intentions to go to the bathroom and extricating himself from Kyrie’s grasp while at the same time subtly jerking his head in the direction of the bathroom after meeting Dante’s gaze.  He’s not suggesting that they… no. He couldn’t be _that_ stupid.

Dante gives it a good two minutes after Nero has left before stiffly getting up from his seat, unable to stop himself from checking whether or not Nero was doing what he thinks he’s doing.  No one at the table gives him a second glance as he leaves, and he wants to _scream_ at them, tell them to open their fucking eyes and _stop him_ before he makes another one of those endless mistakes.

No one does.  So he covers his erection with his napkin, turns, and practically bolts towards the same bathroom Nero had gone to use.

He only needs to knock once for Nero to crack the door open, checking to see if it’s Dante before flinging the door open wide and pulling him in.  The door closes behind them with an ominous _click_.  Nero leans into Dante’s space as if to kiss him, but instead dodges Dante’s lips with a grin and peers over his shoulder to make sure he’s locked the door.

During that time, Dante has the chance to glance at the floor of the tub.  Laying right there is a glistening black butt plug, trails of lube running down towards the drain and betraying just how much prep Nero had to have gone through in preparation for this moment.

This was… new.  The knowledge that Nero had been holding _that_ inside him throughout dinner, and probably during the graduation ceremony, all so that he could be ready for Dante to fuck at a moment’s notice, made his breath quicken and his pants feel even tighter around his now-desperate cock.  Nero, with his ear so close to Dante’s mouth, could hear the subtle change, and raised his head to give him a shit-eating grin. “Let’s make this quick, old man.”

Nero didn’t need to say as much - Dante already knew this was going to be over in a matter of minutes.  Tilting his head back, Nero gives Dante a quick kiss before pulling him away from the door and shucking his jeans down to his ankles, pressing his forearms against the door and bending over so that his dripping, _twitching_ asshole was on display for Dante to enjoy.

One of his hands comes around to take one of his asscheeks and _squeeze_ , spreading himself even further - and Dante’s control snaps.

Smiling into the crook of his elbow, Nero shivers in anticipation as he hears Dante undo his belt and pull down his zipper.  There’s not enough time for him to take off his pants entirely, and Nero is unbelievably turned on by the thought of Dante barely disheveled while Nero himself is half-naked from the waist down.  It feels dirty, like all Dante is is _using him._

Dante can’t help but hold back, holding his dick steady as he teases the Nero’s rim with the tip of it.  Copious precum mixes with lube, and it would be _so_ easy for Dante to just push himself in - but he doesn’t.  He makes Nero squirm, hand on his shoulder as he slowly, carefully lets Nero swallow him whole.  He can’t help but stare at the way Nero takes him so easily, pressing a thumb against the stretched edge of Nero’s entrance to test his resistance.  Almost on a whim, he slips his thumb in alongside his cock, eliciting a strangled moan from Nero, who was dragging his nails down the wood of the door and leaving jagged ridges in his wake.

Dante doesn’t let Nero adjust, fearing the possibility of them getting caught by anyone needing to use the bathroom or coming over to check if Nero was alright.  Instead, he slides his hands around Nero’s waist and pulls back, squeezing Nero reassuringly before _brutally_ slamming back in, sheathing his cock into Nero’s wet heat and sending Nero into a fit, the kid biting his hand so hard he draws blood.  

That does little to muffle his scream.  Dante was sure Nero wouldn’t be able to control himself and keep quiet, so he opts to make this as short as he can, grinding his hips in little circles every time Nero takes his entire length and angling his thrusts to hit that spot inside Nero that never failed to make him cry out and tighten like a vice around his cock.

Holding orgasm off is less and less viable the tighter Nero squeezes around him, and Dante is gasping, reeling above Nero, grunting like a crazed animal as his cock pulses inside Nero with anticipatory glee.  Nero is practically _wailing,_ face pressed against the door as Dante fucks him hard against its surface.  He can feel himself drooling, strings of saliva running down his arm and the wood from when he attempted to muffle his cries.

Dante is close, _so close_ when they hear a knock on the door.  He freezes, but not quickly enough to stop himself from banging Nero into the door, making a noise that _has_ to be heard from the other side.

Nero shuts up quickly as well, eyes widening as he hears who’s on the other side.  “Nero?” comes a soft, high-pitched voice, accompanied by a few gentle raps of knuckle on the hardwood.  “You’ve been gone a while. Are you alright?”

It feels as if Dante’s heart is about to jump right out of his chest and into his throat.  He stills, not daring to move and risk either him or Nero making noise where Kyrie can so clearly hear them - but Nero has other plans.

Dante really almost does go into cardiac arrest when Nero begins pushing back against him, _fucking himself_ on Dante’s cock as he somehow brought himself to answer to Kyrie.  “I… I’m fine, Kyrie,” he stutters, though his voice sounds surprisingly even, at least to Dante.

“Are you sure?” The concerned question is punctuated by Nero spreading his legs wider so he can let his hips bounce whenever he has Dante fully sheathed inside him.

“Really, I am,” Nero calls out, stronger this time - but he turns to give a sidelong glance back at Dante, grinning and whispering words clearly not intended for Kyrie to hear.  “How could I not be? I’m getting fucked by _uncle Dante.”_

In that moment, Dante has no choice but to cum, buried deep inside his nephew as his orgasm hits him so hard that his vision goes dark, eyes rolling back into his head as if he’s possessed.  He’s not in the right mind to control the volume of his voice and he lets out a guttural moan, which trails off into stuttering gasps that match the way his cock jumps inside Nero as he’s milked for all he’s worth.

There’s a pause at the door, and Dante really does think that they’ve blown it now, that Kyrie knows exactly what they’re doing and is about to storm out into the dining room and tell Lady and Trish everything.

“What was that about uncle Dante?” Kyrie asks innocently, and Dante almost breaks down into hysterics as he collapses onto Nero’s back.  By the way Nero’s shaking slightly, he can tell the kid is also trying desperately not to laugh - which definitely isn’t something his oversensitive cock wants to feel right now, Nero’s insides jostling his tightly-held erection.

Laboriously, Dante pulls out as Nero attempts to lead Kyrie back to the dinner table.  “I was just saying I heard Dante come around here and ask to use the bathroom. I don’t need both of you checking up on me, alright?”  The words are harsh, but Nero’s tone is gentle enough that Kyrie accepts it with little resistance.

“Sorry, Nero.  I’ll go back to the living room.  Let me know if you need anything!”

“Thanks, babe,” Nero calls out, though he’s already ignored Kyrie in favor of turning back to face Dante, who’s on his knees waiting for him.  For what exactly Nero isn’t sure of, until Dante presses his hands flat against Nero’s hips and pushes him _hard_ against the door before lunging at him and swallowing his weeping cock in one fell swoop.

Dante doesn’t waste a single second, head twisting and thrusting along the length of Nero’s cock as he surrounds it with his fingers at the base, relishing in the way the tip of it hits the back of his throat.  Every time, Dante swallows around it, throat spasming and struggling to accommodate its girth.

It’s not long before Nero lets loose, Dante taking his cock as far down his throat as it’ll go as he swallows every last drop of Nero’s cum.  Nero’s back is arching off the door, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other pounding against the door, too overwhelmed by the sensation of Dante’s mouth and tongue.

When Dante returns to the table, he doesn’t look much worse for wear, though the lightest tinge of red is dusting his cheeks.  Four minutes later, Nero follows, noticeably disheveled. It’s clear that he’d tried his hardest to fix his hair, but he was still stuck looking like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times.  It’s nothing that can’t be explained away, though, and Nero does just that with a half-hearted excuse when Kyrie asks him what took so long.

The rest of the night passes by uneventfully, though Nero leaves his hand on Dante’s thigh under the tablecloth like he’s staking his claim.  Dante doesn’t mind - he’s too blissed out on endorphins to worry about getting caught.

Dante is the only one who really has to part ways, as Nero and Kyrie plan to stay the night at the house.  Nero’s the last one outside watching Dante as he goes, giving him a short wave before he peels off in his motorcycle.

Weirdly enough, a week passes by without word from Nero.  One week turns into two, which turns into four, and in the end, Dante has to fly back to base with blue balls.

It’s the longest they’ve ever gone without “seeing” each other.  Dante knows something’s up, because Nero doesn’t respond to his texts when he’s usually the one to text him first.

Imagine his surprise when Dante finally finds out that “what’s up” is that Nero has been planning his and Kyrie’s wedding.

Not that Nero tells him in person, or over the phone - he finds out when he opens an embossed envelope with suspiciously high-quality paper inside, which turns out to be an invitation to Nero and Kyrie’s wedding to be held in about a month.

He can’t help but feel a strange sense of disappointment, although maybe this means he’ll finally be rid of the guilt that came with fucking his own nephew.  

That’s that, then.  Dante wishes that he had the restraint to stay away, to let Nero and Kyrie have their happy moment and live the rest of their lives as a happy couple, but no.  He’ll be at the wedding, watching Nero give himself over to someone who wasn’t Dante. _Well_ , he tells himself as he lays in his bed with the wedding invitation tucked under his pillow, _at least it was fun while it lasted_.

* * *

It feels like no time at all has passed when wedding day rolls around, and Dante regrets attending from the moment he sets foot on the venue.  Nero and Kyrie are getting married in a beautiful church upstate, ceilings higher than the heavens and stained glass tinting the light in such a way that makes the hall feel otherworldly.

He showed up early to help Lady and Trish with anything they might need him for, but all they told him to do was go check up on Nero and see if he was doing alright before the ceremony started.

It was a terrible idea, and Dante tried saying as much - but Lady and Trish wouldn’t hear a word, instead pushing Dante in the direction of Nero’s dressing room before turning around to get Kyrie into her wedding dress.

Dante sullenly made his way there, knocking gently on the door and waiting for Nero to answer - although a part of him prays the kid doesn’t.  God, once again refusing to take his side, makes it so that Nero answers the door in a heartbeat.

“Dante.”

“Nero,” he breathes, and seeing Nero after such a long period of isolation makes him feel like a dying man in the desert laying eyes on a puddle of water.

“You… you made it.”

“I thought you’d call.”  Dante didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but months of sexual frustration and _longing_ were surfacing, morphing into something Dante could hardly control.

Nero at least has the decency to look regretful.  “I didn’t know what to say. I was so busy with wedding planning and everything that I…”

“Why are you even getting married?” Dante blurts out, though he didn’t intend to say the words out loud.  He’s still out in the hallway, he realizes, so he slinks inside and makes sure to close the door behind him.

The question makes Nero look up at Dante with wide eyes, and suddenly he feels like he can’t breathe.  It’s at this moment that Dante really takes the time to look at Nero - which he immediately regrets.

Nero in a tailored suit is too much for Dante’s weak heart to handle.  The vest and jacket flatter him in all the right ways, and Dante wants more than anything to peel Nero’s clothes off, layer by tantalizing layer.

“I have an obligation to Kyrie,” Nero retorts, giving Dante an answer to a question that he’d nearly forgotten he’d asked.  Laughing derisively, he continues, “We’ve been dating so long. It’s about damn time, right?”

Dante doesn’t answer affirmatively, staying silent as he surveyed the way Nero’s shoulders tensed and his brows furrowed at his own explanation.  After a few seconds, he finally speaks up, stepping just a bit closer with his hands in his pockets so he can hold himself back. “You don’t believe that, do you?  It sounds like a load of bullshit to me.”

“Dante,” Nero grimaces, eyes lowered and his hands tightly curled into fists, “I don’t know what you want me to say.  This is the way it has to be.”

“Says _who?”_  Dante wants to scream.  He wants to shake Nero by the shoulders and knock some sense into him.

Instead, he presses Nero against the wall and kisses him.  It’s frantic, fueled by unrealized desires and the desperation of two people who know they can never be together.  They barely break apart for air, and even then, their lips stay within an inch of each others’ as they exchange breaths before slotting right back together.

Dante all but rips his jacket off, urgently throwing it to the side while keeping his attention on Nero.  Nero himself moves to undress, but Dante stops him with a hand on his wrist, breaking the kiss for a moment with heaving breaths.  “Keep… keep it on,” he panted, hand moving down to undo his belt buckle. “Ceremony’s soon, isn’t it?”

“Ye-yeah,” Nero’s breath hitches as he tugs his jacket back on.  He mimics Dante’s movements and only undoes as much as he needs to, cock springing out from the confines of his slacks.  Dante takes out his own member and presses close, mouthing at Nero’s neck as he ever-so-slowly slides their cocks together.

It’s not a smooth slide, the added friction making the sensation land on the very edge of painful.  Dante hears Nero’s incredulous, punched-out huff of breath right in his ear when he feels it, hands coming up to clutch at Dante’s shoulders.

“Stop - Dante, stop,” Nero begs, resolutely pushing Dante away.  For a second, he thinks that reality’s come crashing down on the kid, that he finally realized how wrong this all was…

“Get on top of me, on the couch.”  Nope. Dante lets out a soft sigh of relief, taking Nero’s hand in his and walking backwards until his calves hit the edge of the seat.  He falls onto the cushions, pulling Nero down into his lap to bring the kid in for another kiss.

When they break apart, Dante’s eyes are locked onto a string of saliva still connecting their mouths mere inches away from each other.  “Why didn’t you call?” Nero asked, voice small and... almost _scared_ , like he was afraid of Dante’s answer.

“Why didn’t I - kid, I told you.  ‘Just give me the word’.”

“You could have called.  You have my number.” Nero was slowly growing angrier, Dante realized, and he brought a hand to rest on the back of Nero’s head to try and relax him.  Lowering Nero onto the cushions, he begins to explain, “I live alone. When you text me… there’s no fear of getting caught. But if I text you without warning, Kyrie might see.”

Nero gave this a bit of thought, gaze returning to Dante’s face when he finally came to understand Dante’s reasoning.  Still, he seemed adamant about… something. “You should have let her find out so I wouldn’t have to _do_ this bullshit, Dante!”

“She can give you a future,” Dante cut Nero off, a wistful undertone to his voice.  “I’m your uncle, Nero. That’s all I can ever be. There is no future for us.”

For a terrifying second, it looked like Nero was about to cry.  Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath, hands coming up to cover his face.  “Just let me pretend,” he said through clenched teeth, legs coming up to wind around Dante’s middle as more of an afterthought than advance, as if Nero were trying to curl in on himself.

“I can do better than that, kid.”  Dante gently reached down to take one of Nero’s wrists.  Bringing his hand to his lips, he pressed a few tender kisses to the palm, knowing Nero was watching him intently as he did.

His free hand wraps around them abruptly, and Dante delights in the way Nero shivers at the sudden touch.  “You look damn good in that tux,” he murmurs in an appraising, hushed voice, gaze flicking up to the door every so often to make sure they weren’t about to be interrupted.  “I’d take my time stripping you out of it if you didn’t need it for _your wedding._ ”

Dante wasn’t sure if the promise or the reminder was what made Nero buck up into his grip - he’d like to think it was both - but either way, he began thrusting against Nero’s rigid length, coaxing Nero along by rubbing his glans between the pads of his fingers.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Nero groans, tugging at the lip of Dante’s collar, sliding his fingers down the edge before shifting his attention to Dante’s tie.  Winding it around his hand, he pulls Dante in close for a bruising kiss.

Their movements grew more and more frantic as they brought each other closer and closer to climax, eyes and motions becoming increasingly unfocused the less coherent they became.  Through the haze of lust, Nero tugs Dante’s tie to the side as if to _choke_ him.  “Let me get on top,” he urged, beads of precum surging from his tip.  Without waiting for permission, Nero uses a surprising amount of strength to flip them over, straddling Dante’s waist with bent knees and staring down at his stunned expression.

Nero refused to stop his hips from moving, however, pistoning into Dante’s grip with all the passion of his suppressed desire to fuck Dante surfacing.  “I’m gonna ruin you,” Nero growled, though Dante already felt ruined, desperate and so out of control at the sight of Nero taking charge. “I’ll make us _both_ cum on your shirt, and even if you cover it up with your jacket, I’ll know exactly what’s underneath.”  Dante gasps at the prospect, a burst of precum dribbling down onto his silk shirt, wet spot obvious and glaring as if serving as a preview of Nero’s intentions.

The tie still held tightly in his fist, Nero continues to choke Dante and get himself off at the same time.  He only needs to sink into Dante’s tight grip four more times before his cock begins to pulsate, veins prominent and bulging as if Nero’s dick is _wringing_ the cum from itself to flood the head of Dante’s dick before it hits his shirt.

Dante cums the instant he feels Nero’s release on him, contributing an obscene degree to the mess already coating his abdomen.  The puddle of cum begins to spread, especially when Nero’s cock slips from Dante’s relaxing grip and slides through the mess, sending tremors that accompany the aftershocks wracking Nero’s body.

Vision returning from having whited out, Dante feels like he’s reeling, chest heaving rapidly as he comes back to himself.  He sees Nero slumped above him, hips finally going still while his cock continued to occasionally twitch.

The process of getting ready to return to the hall is bittersweet, Dante taking his sweet time as he buttoned his jacket over his ruined shirt.  Nero wouldn’t stop distracting him, pressing soft, almost chaste kisses to Dante’s lips as if wordlessly pleading for him not to go.

Dante almost lets Nero convince him, but Trish’s urgent knocking at the door startles them both out of each other’s arms, clearing the fog of lust and giving Dante that push he needs to finally leave Nero’s room.  He gives Nero one last lingering kiss before he goes, the feeling of Nero’s fingertips slipping against his bittersweet as their hands break apart.

Outside the door, Trish regards him with a raised eyebrow, asking why he looks so disheveled.  Shrugging, Dante begins walking with purpose back to the hall, tossing a hurried explanation over his shoulder of “not wanting to upstage the groom” before disappearing from her sight - the guilt of doing something so depraved creeping over him once again.

He takes his seat in the front row while refusing to meet the gaze of any other attendees, crossing one leg over the other just in case his dick decides to show interest while he watches Nero up there at the altar.

Dante wishes the two well, though he still feels something painful rending his heart as his eyes track the motion of Nero slipping the wedding ring onto Kyrie’s waiting finger.

He wishes the two well… but he wishes Nero wouldn't go through with the wedding even more.

* * *

 Nero was, admittedly, ready to let his little misguided “love” affair with his uncle fizzle out once he and Kyrie really got to planning their wedding.  It was starting to get harder and harder to hide, after all, and some days Nero wondered if Kyrie didn’t know what was going on between him and his uncle.

It was actually Kyrie who sent the invitation out to Dante - Nero hadn’t been in charge of that particular responsibility, so of course Dante would be invited.

The next month begins to feel like torture - he refuses to let himself text Dante, but the hope that he’ll unlock his phone one day and see a notification from him only grows more and more twisted by the day, to the point where Nero can think of nothing but Dante underneath him when he’s alone in the shower, hand twisting and pulling at his erection as he desperately tries to tell himself he doesn’t need Dante, that Kyrie is enough.  That she _has_ to be enough.

And so it goes during the days leading up to the wedding.  If Kyrie suspects something off with him, she says nothing, probably too excited by the prospect of getting married to really care.

Nero’s veneer of denial shatters the moment he lays eyes on Dante on the day of his wedding.

He feels like an alcoholic tasting a drop of liquor after trying to quit cold turkey when he sees him, ravenously drinking Dante in and frotting against him - but it’s not enough.  It’s _never_ enough, which is why he keeps coming back for more.

When he’s finally carted off to the altar and faces Kyrie so they can exchange vows, Nero finds himself staring past Kyrie’s shoulder right at Dante, sitting with one jittering leg over the other and looking at the two of them, not quite meeting Nero’s gaze.  Nero can hear Kyrie reciting her vows, but the words don’t process - he begins to recite his robotically, too distracted to notice Kyrie’s furrowed brows.

The priest’s voice slowly enters his consciousness when it comes time for him to wrap up the ceremony.  “...and do you, Nero, take Kyrie to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Nero pauses, glancing once at the priest, once at Kyrie, and looks over at Dante - only to find that Dante is staring right back.  Taking a deep breath, he slips his hand over Kyrie’s, gaze unwaveringly directed at his uncle.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter [@ifrit_inferno](https://twitter.com/ifrit_inferno)!


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